


K99I21ME5 or My building bakes cookies

by Lady_Nightshade



Series: My building has a first name, it's K-99-I-21-M-E-5 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE CRACK, Crack, Gen, I don't mention much just a few things about Abaddon and Dorothy, Original Character(s), Possible spoilers for season 10, like it's sort of a stretch because of the crack, possible spoilers for season 8, possible spoilers for season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Nightshade/pseuds/Lady_Nightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if Sam and Dean's lives couldn't get any weirder.  Now they were talking to a building.  She made the best cookies, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake up

**Author's Note:**

> One night I was lying in bed drifting off to sleep when Dean all but growls in frustration out of the blue in my mind, "Well that's just GREAT. I pissed off the BUILDING. HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!?!" And thus, this was born. 
> 
> I've never written for the Supernatural fandom before, and I'm new to the show as of this year (I may or may not have been bingeing on it via Netflix... Ice Bear has many secrets...). This is a first try and who knows, maybe an only try. Or maybe not. There's a few other tiny scenes that I've got in my mind that I'll try to flesh out. 
> 
> For now, as usual, don't take this seriously- I usually only write crack. So you should take it as such. I mention a few events from Seasons 8-10, but don't really give anything away. If you're not there yet and don't want to know anything though, don't read. I always enjoy playing with someone else's world. I don't own anything. Also, unbettaed because... well, it just is.

Dean sighed as he opened his eyes.  They’d had a long night, which was only made longer by the all too brief sleep he’d gotten. Nightmares.  Too many nightmares.  His life had been one long nightmare.  Staring blankly at the ceiling, he lay there a moment.  ‘ _Decide to be fine til the end of the week.  Make yourself smile because you’re alive and that’s your job.  And do it again the next week…_ ’ Bracing himself, he rolled onto his side and sat up.  Another day, another fight. _He was fine_.  Rubbing his face, he turned to grab his watch off the nightstand and paused.  Two cookies were sitting on a small plate next to his clock. 

 _Huh, thanks Sammy_ …

He picked one up and took a bite.  Maybe it was just being offered a small luxury after the night he’d had.  Or maybe it was everything else that always seemed to screw his life over.  Whatever it was, he actually groaned as he tasted it.  Best. Cookie.  Ever. 

* 

Sam bit into his second cookie.  Last night had sucked. But they’d done it. He and Dean weren’t on smooth seas- they rarely were, but they had each other, and they’d make it through. Just like last night and just like every night before it.  He looked up from his research when Dean walked in, waving a cookie at him and nodding. Sam nodded back, cookie in mouth.

Yeah. Last night had sucked. But they could do this. Just like always.


	2. Wait up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley likes cookies.

Crowley sighed in bordom.  He’d been captured by the Winchesters.  Again. It was a bit embarrassing if he were being honest.  Here he was, the King of Hell- the demon with all the power- and he still managed to get duped by the Rocky and Bullwinkle show.  Honestly, why did he even bother to believe anything that came out of their mouths? He was seriously the only honest one there.  Even the friggin'  _angel_ lied these days.

Shifting in the chair he’d been chained to he settled in for what he assumed would be hours of solitude when he heard a sound he’d never heard in the bunker before. Cocking his head to the side, Crowley listened as the sound of heels clicking on the cement flooring grew nearer.  Either Destial had finally happened and Dean had decided to finally begin expressing his feminine side, or there was a woman in the bunker.  Crowley wasn’t completely convinced it was a woman. 

Waiting expectantly, he eyed the corridor through the open door and waited.  Moments later a woman walked by holding a tray. Crowley raised his brows. Huh.  There really _was_ a woman in the bunker.  How… _unexpected_.  The sound of heels clicking stopped.  Then started again as the woman reversed before her head appeared in the doorway as she leaned back to take a peak at him.  There was a slight pause as she looked at him silently. Unconcerned, Crowley raised a brow. “Evening, gorgeous,” he said in his easy bur.  “What’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” 

She seemed amused at that and took a step backwards, coming to stand fully in the doorway. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him, then down at the cookie tray in her oven mitted hands before looking back at him again in silent offering.

Understanding her, Crowley shrugged.  It’s not like her baking would kill him if it was bad.  “Sure. Why not?”

With a smile she walked into the storage room and stepped right into the devil’s trap, as she picked up a cookie and held it up to him since his hands were bound.

Taking it with an open mouth, Crowley chewed before tossing his head back and working the rest of it in.  Huh, white chocolate macadamia nut. Not too crunchy but not too soft. Just the way he liked it. Crowley took the opportunity to take a better look at her while she stood there watching him chew. She was dressed like something straight out of a nuclear family television show- dress, frilly apron, pearls, kitten heels- the whole shebang.  Physically, she was small, with delicate features and an impish heart shaped face. Black cherub curls hung at her jaw, reminding him of Shirley Temple.  Almond eyes sparkled at him and Cupid’s bow lips tipped upward in a small smile that seemed genuine. What was someone like her doing baking for a couple of death magnets like the Winchesters?

Swallowing, Crowley licked the corner of his mouth.  “Thanks, beautiful,” he said.  “Best cookie I’ve had in years.”  With a pleased smile, she nodded, and left.  Continuing down the hall. 

Crowley watcher her leave.  _Huh_. 

*

Hours later, after the sun had long since come up, Dean and Sam came in.  Dean had his bad cop face on.  Sam looked like a confused puppy.  _Typical_.

“Moose. Squirrel.  Love the new cook.  Haven’t had a cookie that great in centuries.  What, did you get tired of clogging your arteries with takeout, burgers, and bacon?”

The brothers stopped and looked at each other in confusion.

Dean leaned forward and did his whole I-don’t-have-time-for-your-crap-look face thing- you know the one.  “… The _what_ now?”

Crowley looked back at him with a bored expression.  “The _cook_?  You know… cute little thing running around in the 50’s housewife get up?  Didn’t know you boys had a kink for Mrs. Cleaver.  Makes sense, though.”

Sam looked at him like he’d spouted a second head.  “… We don’t have a cook, Crowley.” 

Crowley paused. “You sure?” he asked after a moment. 

“ _Positive_!” Dean barked back. 

“Wait,” Sam said, looking at Dean.  “So… _you_ didn’t leave the cookies?”

Dean looked at his brother.  “No! I thought _you_ did!”

Crowley watched the two of them as the realization that they had an uninvited stranger in the bunker set in.  Huh.  Looks like things were beginning to get interesting. “So you really don’t know who she is?”

“No…” Sam said, worry crossing his face. 

Crowley shrugged. Not his problem. “Well, you should. She makes great cookies.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean answered.  “Damn thing was _delicious_. Ah hell!” He muttered, throwing his hands up as he turned away from Crowley and began walking toward the door.   “It’s probably magic. _Crap_. We ate cursed cookies!”

Sam’s brows went up in disbelief.  “You seriously think the cookies were cursed?”

Dean turned back and raised his voice in frustration.  “ _I don’t know_! Maybe?  How’d she even get _in here_??!?! I mean, wouldn’t the alarms have gone off?”

“Not if she has a key,” Sam reasoned.

“But we’ve got the _only key_!” Dean answered, throwing his hands up again.  “Besides, she broke in just to make cookies?  Come on! That makes no sense!”

Sam paused in thought. “Maybe she’s a ghost?” It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had a ghost in the bunker.

“Fan- _freakin_ -tastic,” Dean sarcastically snipped.

Crowley interrupted. “Not a ghost, moose. I’d have noticed that. Besides, when was the last time a dead person offered you baked goods?”

Both men looked at each other and then at Crowley, each making a ‘weeeeeell…’ expression.

Crowley stared at them in disbelief.  “… You’re joking…”

“It isn’t all blood and guts.  Sometimes there’s pie,” Dean snarked.  But seriously, this wouldn’t be the first time a dead chick had offered them baked goods.

Getting back on track, Sam tried again. “Maybe she’s a witch?”

“No, wrong again,” Crowley shook his head.  “I know witches- she’s not one.” 

“Maybe she’s just a crazy lost lady?” Sam said with a healthy dose of wishful thinking.

Crowley snickered. “She’s not human, whatever she is- I can tell.”

“So what _is_ she?” Sam asked.

“Not my problem,” Crowley said with a smile.  This was gonna be good.  He was going to enjoy this.

“Whatever she is,” Dean said reaching for his knife, “we find her.  And then if necessary, we end her.” 

“Why not try the kitchen?  Or you could just follow the smell of freshly baked- _huh_. Come to think of it, I didn’t smell anything.  But the cookie was _warm_ …” Crowley said thoughtfully. _Interesting_.

“I knew it. Magic cookies. _Great_. She probably drugged us,” Dean muttered as he began walking away.

“Well,” Crowley said, watching him go, “If you start tripping, please _do_ stay in here.  Sam. Not you Dean.  Sam seems like he’d be entertaining high. You, not so much.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t the demons ever just sit quietly? “Stay here.”

Crowley gave him a look.  “And here I was planning on going dancing,” he said sarcastically, waving what he could of his hands, bound as they were at the wrists.  “Morons,” he muttered to himself as the brothers left. 


	3. I conjured a guard dog and all I got was a cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean meet their house.

Hours later the brothers were no closer to finding the intruder. 

“Anything?” Dean asked, coming back into the main hall to find Sam walking toward him from the opposite wing of the bunker.

“Nothing,” Sam said.

“How is that possible?” Dean asked, “I checked every door.  None of the rooms look like they’ve been touched for years besides ours.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I checked every door too. Maybe she’s got a key like Dorothy?”

“And she what? Decided to deliver baked goods on her way to grandma’s house?” Dean huffed. “That makes no sense…” Dean turned on his heals and began walking away. “Come on.”

Sam didn’t move. “Where?”

Dean stopped and looked at his brother.  “Crowley said she was dressed like a 50’s house wife, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

Dean looked meaningfully at Sam. “Which means he _saw_ her."

“…Yeah…” Sam didn’t get where Dean was going with this.

“Which means _she_ _showed herself to him_ ,” Dean said, willing Sam to follow his thinking.

“…Which means maybe she’ll do it again,” Sam nodded and walked down the hall with Dean toward the storage area.

As they drew closer, they could hear Crowley talking to someone.  “Don’t mind if I do…”

Looking at each other, they each quietly moved toward the room.  Dean counted to 3 with his fingers before they both rounded the doorframe to find the woman in question, sticking a cookie in Crowley’s mouth with her oven mitted hand.  Dean drew his knife. The sound caused both the woman and Crowley to turn to them.  The woman cocked her head to the side and just stared at them, as if she were waiting for them to say something.  The brothers stared back, trying to determine if she were a threat.  Crowley chewed and watched the show. 

Sam started with, “…Who _are_ you?”

Dean followed with, “ _What_ are you?”

And Sam finished with, “And more importantly, how’d you get in here?”

Without answering, the woman disappeared. 

“ _Woah_!” Sam exclaimed as Dean cursed.

“Where’d she go?” Dean demanded at Crowley.

Crowley merely lifted a brow.  “How should I know? Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“How can I?!” he barked, “She freagin’ disappear- _JEAZUS_!” he started as he turned around to see her standing behind him, file folder in hand. “Don’t _do_ that,” he said, pointing a finger at her.  She looked at him and disappeared again.  “ _Now_ where’d she go?” he breathed in frustration.

Suddenly the three of them heard the sound of heels clicking on the cement flooring from down the hall.  The mystery woman came walking in and stopped within arm’s reach of Dean. 

“She wants to know if that’s better,” Crowley said. 

“Yeah…” Dean said, eyeing her wearily.  “Thanks… Wait,” he said, glancing at Crowley, “she didn’t say anything.”

Crowley shrugged. “Not out loud, no.”

“Oh, so what, you’re a mind reader now?” Dean shot back. 

Crowley shrugged again.

Looking back at the woman and deciding to try to steer everyone back on track, Sam cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on his pants in a move Dean recognized as when he was trying to appear conversational and inconspicuous. It shouldn’t work and yet people usually bought it.  _Why_ was beyond him.  “ _Sooo_ … What have you got there?… Miss… uh…” Sam paused.  “Do you have a _name_?”

The woman shook her head.

“She says ‘no,’” Crowley translated. 

“Yeah, thanks for that, _Captain obvious_ …” Dean said, rolling his eyes.  

Sam tried again. “So what do people call you?”

She stared at Sam for a moment before Crowley answered for her.  “Says she’s ‘K’ double nine ‘I’ twenty-one ‘M’ ‘E’ five.”

Sam and Dean both looked at each other.  This was only getting weirder.  “Right,” Sam said. “So, K-uh…”

“K-99-I-21-M-E-5,” Crowley supplied ‘helpfully.’

“Yeah... What have you got there?” Sam asked, nodding at the file folder in her hand. 

The woman handed it to him.

Looking at her for permission, Sam slowly opened the file and began to read when she gave no protest.  “ _Huh_.”

Dean looked at him impatiently. “What is it?”

“Looks like it’s a record of how she came to be.  Crowley’s right- she’s not human…” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _No, really_?”  The woman had just freaking disappeared.  Like ‘beam me up Scotty- poof!’ disappeared.  Of _course_ she wasn’t human.

Sam ignored his brother’s sarcasm.  “Apparently, she’s half mechanical, half… _magical_.”

“So they _were_ magic cookies…” Dean said, pointing a finger at Sam.

Confusion crossed K99I21ME5’s face before she looked askance at Crowley.  Crowley didn’t bother to reply, just shaking his head slightly and giving her a ‘don’t worry about it’ face. Accepting it, she turned back and watched the Winchesters expectantly.

Sam kept reading. “Says the Men of Letters programmed her.”

Dean dropped his hand and looked at her.  “So… she’s like a what? A _magic robot_?”

Sam shook his head. “No… she’s not actually here. Well, sort of,” he said, looking at her. “She’s here, but she’s not. I think she’s the _essence_ of the building.” 

Dean looked at his brother.  “ _Say what now_?”

“I think,” Sam said, looking at her closely, “that she’s the… _manifestation_ of the… _building_.”

Dean just stood there staring.  As if his life couldn’t possibly get any weirder.  “…She’s the _building_? She’s the freaggin’ building. Of course she is,” he said, utterly done with this conversation.  Suddenly a thought occurred to him. “ _Tell_ me she hasn’t been watching us sleep.  Or _use the bathroom_!” he demanded, raising his voice.

Crowley rolled his eyes at Dean’s theatrics. “Squirrel, _relax_. Have a cookie.”

The _building_ nodded and held the cookie tray out to him in offering.

“Dean…” Sam pleaded. “Calm down.  I’m sure she hasn’t been watching us do… _that_.”

“I don’t want to calm down. This is ridiculous! We’re talking to a _building_!” He shouted, throwing a random book from the shelf at the wall.

At Dean’s outburst the woman frowned and the walls started to creak.  Not just the walls- the whole bunker seemed to echo with the sounds of the building shifting and settling. 

All of the men paused in confusion, each staying perfectly still.  “I don’t think the lady likes you doing that…” Crowley said, breaking the silence. 

“Well that’s just _great_.” Dean grumbled. “I pissed off the _building_.  _How is that even possible_?”

Sam slowly walked over and picked up the book that Dean had thrown.  “Sorry,” he said to the woman, holding up his hand in a placating gesture. 

She nodded, taking the book from him and hugging it to herself.  Sam noticed that the tray of cookies was suddenly nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t set it down- it was just _gone_.

Sam looked back down at the file to answer Dean’s question.  “It says here that there was some sort of ritual the Men of Letters discovered that gave life to her.  They were trying to create a guardian… sort of like a supernatural guard dog.”

Dean looked at his brother.  “And instead they got… _her_?” he asked, nodding toward her.

Sam nodded, following Dean’s gaze.  “Seems so…”

“So where’s she been this whole time?” Dean asked.  “Why haven’t we seen her before now?”

There was a pause before Crowley said, “She was locked away in the basement until you two let her out the other day.  Something about a special lock you two boneheads busted.” 

Sam looked rather horrified at the thought.  “They locked her away in the _basement_? All this time?”

Crowley nodded as he looked at her, appearing to be listening to something neither of them could hear. “She wouldn’t let them bring the ‘first woman’ into the bunker, so they locked her up.”

Both Sam and Dean froze and looked at each other. 

“What?” Crowley asked. “Care to share with the class?”

“The first woman to be inducted into the Men of Letters…  Her name was Josie Sands,” Dean said.

When he didn’t say more, Crowley impatiently prodded.  “… _And_?” 

“And you _know_ her,” Sam said. “Only _you_ know her better as _Abaddon_.”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised and he let out a whistle. 

“She knew Josie had been possessed…” Sam said, staring at her in awe.

“But how’d you know?” Dean asked, finally addressing her for the first time. “Abaddon had never been in the bunker- that’s why she chased Henry for the key.” 

She looked sad then, eyes drifting to the side as if she were remembering something. “She’d seen Josie before and after Abaddon possessed her and had tried to keep her locked out of places,” Crowley said.

“But _how_?” Dean pressed. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek as Crowley quietly said, “She used to be the Men of Letters' headquarters too… until Abaddon burned it down.”

With a wave of her hand, her skin was suddenly marred with burn scars. 

“The Men of Letters didn’t understand what she was trying to tell them… and this is what she got for her loyalty,” Crowley said slowly. 

“And Abaddon killed them all…” Sam said before silence fell over the room.

The three men all look at her.  She looked back. After a moment her scars faded, leaving her skin smooth again.  When they simply continued to stare at her, she raised the tray again in offering.

“No thanks…” Dean said, slightly weirded out that the tray kept appearing and disappearing seemingly at whim. “Why does she keep offering us _cookies_?” he asked, looking at Sam, who was looking at the file again. 

“In the 50’s they figured out a way to control her… They programed her to be…” there was a slight pause while Sam read, his lips twisting into a disgusted expression as he read, “ _accommodating_.”

Dean paused. He didn’t like the places his brain was going with that term “…What does that mean?”

Sam continued to make a face as he read, “It says they made her to be, and I quote, ‘ _the perfect woman_.’”

Crowley snorted. “ _Slave’s_ more like it.  Bet those Men of Letters had her waiting on them hand and foot like a Stepford wife.”

Sam nodded, looking at her with a bit of pity.  “Yeah, probably so.”

Crowley looked at her. “Bet they didn’t even bother to give you a proper name, did they gorgeous?”  She stared at him.  “Yes,” he said back, “but that’s not your _name_. No one says ‘Hey, K- double-nine-I-twenty-one-M-E-five, how’s tricks?”

Dean raised an incredulous eyebrow as he watched their seemingly one sided conversation.

“Huh,” Crowley said in mild surprise.

“What?” Dean asked.

There was a slight pause before Crowley slowly said, “Says none of them ever really talked to her before.”

Sam’s brows knitted together.  “Wait, so you’ve been here all this time, making… cookies…” She nodded, holding up the tray to him in offering.  “No thanks…” Sam said, causing her to lower it again,  “and in all that time, the Men of Letters never said so much as a _thank you_? 

She stared at Sam blankly. Realizing they wouldn’t get a response from her, both Sam and Dean look at Crowley.  Crowley made a face and shook his head.  “Don’t look at me- she didn’t say anything.  I think she’s confused.”

Sam looked back at her. “Didn’t you ever get… _lonely_?” 

Again, she just stared at Sam blankly.

Crowley craned his neck to try to get a better view of her face.  “I don’t think she understands the question.”

“You know,” Dean says, “ _Lonely_? _Sad_ to be alone?”  

Now she stared at Dean.

Crowley watched her. “Doesn’t look like she’s ever considered anything else.”

Dean made a face. “Well, you don’t have to do that anymore.  You’re…” he trailed off, waving his hand around at her, “ _free_ ,” he said, for lack of a better word. 

She still just stared at him.

“Still don’t think she understands, squirrel,” Crowley said.

“You know…” Dean tried again.  “ _Free_?” 

Crowley rolled his eyes.  “As elegant as that was, I’ve always found using the word to be defined _within_ the definition unhelpful,” he said.

“Shut up,” Dean replied.

Sam shook his head. “Look, K-99-whatever-”

“I-21-M-E-5,” Crowley finished again.  “It’s not that hard.  _Honestly_ ,” he said, shaking his head.

“Shut up,” Sam said to him. “What Dean means is,” he said, looking back at her again, “is that we don’t need you to accommodate us. We take care of ourselves. So you can do what you want to do now. What…” he said, raising his eyebrows in curiosity “ _do_ you like to do?”

K99I21ME5 tilted her head to the side in thought.

“She doesn’t know,” Crowley supplied.

“Ok,” Dean said, uncrossing his arms and standing from where he’d been leaning against a table. “Are you _seriously_ hearing a voice we can’t hear?”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s more of an emotion, really,” he said conversationally back.

Ignoring them, Sam tried again. “Well, you _bake_ ,” Sam supplied helpfully.  “Do you _like_ baking?”

She shrugged at him.

“Well, what _don’t_ you like?” Dean asked. “No way you _like_ dressing like the Beave’s mom.”

She looked down at herself. 

“I think she’s concerned that you don’t like what she’s wearing… something about the last keepers approving,” Crowley said for her.

“Well, let’s start out simple.  K double…” Dean trailed off, unable to remember it all.

“Nine-,” Crowley began.

“ _Shut up_!” Both Sam and Dean shouted at him.

Crowley pressed his lips together, his expression reading ‘ _fiiiiine, sheesh’_ as he lifted his hands as much as the binds at his wrists will allow in a placating gesture.

Dean made a face at him.  Turning back to her, he asked. “K-double-nine- What’s all that stand for?”

Not giving Crowley a chance to speak, Sam answered, “I think it’s just the file call number.”

Dean glanced at the file’s label. It read ‘K99I21-ME-5.’ “Well we can’t keep calling you by your file call number. Let’s give you a name.  What do you want to be called?”

Again, she just stared at him.

“Ok, we’ll work on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this one! I just wrote until the scene faded in my head. And this is where it ended. There's a few other scenes that might get written, but this probably won't be a fully fleshed out story- just another wacky thing in the lives of the Brothers Winchester.


End file.
